


By the Fire

by rowofstars



Series: 31 Days of Fandomas 2018 [12]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Friendship, Introspection, Pre-Relationship, The Dark Castle (Once Upon a Time), Winter Solstice, Yuletide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-23
Updated: 2018-12-23
Packaged: 2019-09-25 02:01:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,627
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17112329
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rowofstars/pseuds/rowofstars
Summary: A quiet moment in the Dark Castle.





	By the Fire

**Author's Note:**

> This is garbage, and also very late. It was supposed to be for yesterday. For the 31 Days of Fandomas prompt #21 - Yule.

Rumplestiltskin wasn’t sure how it happened, but for the past several evenings he had found himself in the company of his maid. 

It seemed innocent enough at first; Belle wanted to read in the great hall instead of the library because “the light was better.” He thought he had fixed that with the addition of four more candelabras around her favorite chair, but she continued coming down every evening, in her nightdress and robe, to sit on the sofa by the fire, and read while he spun.

A few evenings turned into a few weeks, and as winter set in, he found himself sharing the sofa, his legs propped up on a tufted velvet ottoman. Beside him, at the opposite end, was Belle, reading aloud from one of her books while he worked a drop spindle. A cushion separated them, but as she turned a page, he became acutely aware of something touching his left leg. Glancing down, he saw her dainty feet pressing against his leather breeches. They were warm and supple from the heat of the fire, and he assumed that she must be cold. Certainly there was no other reason for her to touch him in such a way.

With a thought and a wave of his hand, he replaced the lighter, knit afghan she had draped over her with a heavier, thicker wool blanket. She stopped reading and blinked at him. He gave her a small smile, but her face remained inscrutable as she looked down at the blanket.

Belle let out a soft, _oh_ , and then pulled her feet back, tucking them under the blanket. “Thank you,” she said quietly, and then went back to reading.

Rumple frowned and stared into the fire wondering why her voice sounded just a little bit sad, and why he was suddenly extremely disappointed that her feet weren’t touching him. “No matter,” he replied, and the evening went on without incident.

The next night, it happened again, though her feet remained covered by the blanket this time. Belle stretched her legs to the side, until her toes were just touching his thigh. The moment it happened his body reacted as though he’d been touched by magic, he startled and dropped his straw, sending the spindle to the stone floor. It rolled towards the fireplace and he had to lean forward to catch it before it hit the hearth.

Beside him Belle gasped. “Oh, I’m so sorry.”

Rumple sat back and looked at her. She seemed so small, curled into the crook in the sofa made by the joining of the arm to the back, and her eyes were wide, as if she expected some sort of reprimand. It wasn’t as though they never touched. There was the time she fell from the ladder and he caught her, a moment which replayed in his mind almost daily. And then there was the hug she gave him in the woods after he failed to kill Robin Hood. He hadn’t known what to make of that, but her smile and the press of her lithe body was something he recalled often in the dead of night. 

There were smaller touches as well, the brush of her fingers on his hand as she handed him his tea, or the bump of her shoulder against him as she moved around him in his tower. But they were incidental, surely. The kind of things that happened when two people were in close proximity, despite them occupying a castle large enough for them to avoid each other for a month. She always seemed to be nearby, if not in the same room, especially after he told her about his son.

He hadn’t quite told her everything, but she knew enough. She knew that he was working on a magical way to find Baelfire, that it involved travel to another realm, and that the whole reason he was cursed was because of his son. He didn’t delve into the details of how he came by the curse, or his plans for Regina, but it felt good to have a true ally in his quest. Her desire to help him in whatever way she could, and to join him in traveling to this other realm, was sincere. It pulled at what was left of his heart.

Rumple sighed and shook his head. “It’s no matter. Are you cold, my dear?”

She smiled as she always did when he let the little endearments slip out. “No, I just, um, - well, when I read I get a bit - distracted.”

He snorted softly. “You don’t say?”

That earned him a quick glare and a smirk. Belle knew he was teasing her about her tendency to so lose herself in the written word that she would forget about afternoon tea and even dinner sometimes. When it happened he often surprised her in the library or the great hall with a meal he prepared and a half-hearted scolding for being so lazy.

“Hush,” she admonished. “I know I get into my stories, you don’t have to tease me about it. But sometimes - sometimes I -” 

She sighed and shrugged, and he frowned. “Sometimes you what?”

She turned and looked into the fire, pulling back from his question in a way that he felt, physically, as if she too had walls that needed prodding to come down.

“Belle?” he said, gently, and she glanced at him sideways. “It’s all right to enjoy your books. I know they must help you - _cope_ \- with being here.”

The book she was reading fell from her hands, landing on its side on the floor, as she shifted and turned in her seat. “Oh, Rumple, that’s not it at all! I like being here.”

Rumplestiltskin frowned. “You - you do?”

“Of course.” Her hand laid over his on the sofa cushion. “I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.”

He found himself smiling at that, a slow, curving, sly smile, and shook his head again. “Strange girl.”

Her eyes brightened at that and she smiled too. “Strange man.”

Rumple bristled a bit, and tugged on his waistcoat as he straightened in his seat. “Yes, well, one of us is cursed by dark magic, and the other gets confused about the time when she buries her nose in a book about a princess and a knight _canoodling_.”

Belle’s jaw dropped. “Excuse me!” He started laughing his usually twittering, high pitched giggle. “For your information, she’s a _sorceress_ , not a princess. And _he’s_ a peasant.”

His laughter died off almost immediately and made a face. He could imagine a strange other world where Belle was a powerful sorceress and he was still a lowly, poor peasant. Certainly there would be even less reason for her to speak to him, much less for them to be friends. The possibility of _more_? That was ludicrous.

He hid his surprise and gave her a sly look. “But you aren’t denying there’s canoodling.” She stuck her tongue out at him, and he grinned. “And you didn’t answer my question before.”

Her shoulders sagged a bit and she picked up her book, brushing off the cover before settling back against the sofa. “Sometimes, when I get lost in a story, I - I need to know someone’s there. That - that you’re there. That’s why I like to sit in here, with you. The library’s lovely, but it’s also - lonely.” She shrugged. “If it bothers you, I’ll stop.”

Rumple’s face softened. She was seeking him out specifically, wanting that reassuring presence of another person. But not just any person, him.

“It’s - it’s fine,” he managed. His throat felt tight and he cleared it sharply. “It, um, it’s fine.”

He looked at her sideways, hoping she understood that it was more than fine, that it was fantastic, superb, and incredible, even if he couldn’t say it.

She sighed contentedly and returned to her book without another word, and after a few minutes of reading silently, her body shifted and her feet came to rest against his leg. A short while later, his hand found its way down to lay on top of them, his thumb idly stroking along her ankle through the blanket.

They stayed like that for some time, until Belle looked up from her book and turned to the window. The snow was falling outside as it had been all day, quiet and serene. “It’s the solstice, isn’t it? Today?”

Rumplestiltskin pondered for a moment, counting the days in his head. “So it is.”

That made it technically his birthday as well, though he stopped celebrating or caring about such a thing lifetimes ago. His lips twitched, nearly smiling. This was possibly the nicest birthday he’d had since he lost Bae. 

“That means Yule has started,” she added. "The village will holding a festival tonight. So - so will Avonlea."

"Yes, I imagine they will." He wondered if she'd want to go, to be among her people at the start of the winter holiday season. If she asked, he would be incapable of denying her.

She closed her book over her finger and put her free hand over his, giving is a slight squeeze. “Happy Yuletide, Rumple.”

“Happy Yule.” He nodded, swallowing against the lump in his throat. “Belle.”

She went back to reading, and he decided that tomorrow there might be a few changes around the castle. Perhaps some garland on the mantle and a festival tree decked in glowing candles by the window. If she didn’t annoy him too much, he might even let her hang a few shiny baubles on it. Bae had always liked that. With any luck, in a short while, perhaps he could celebrate again, both the Solstice, his birthday, and the Yuletide season, with his son and with his - with Belle.


End file.
